Milian Wound
by Baliansword
Summary: Alexander and Hephaestion's relationship is tested prior to the Milian Wound when Hephaestion does an unthinkable act at Alexander's request. Some angst. A short story, a teaser to "Arrows", which I will soon begin posting.


Michelle Nicole Boyer

October 5th, 2009

**TITLE**: The Less-Recalled Milian1 Wound

**AUTHOR: ** Baliansword

Rated: T

Summary: This is a teaser to the story I'm going to start uploading, "Arrows". I wrote this as a short story for a class; thought I would share it with everyone. I have been asked several times to do a story on the Milian wound, and, well, here it begins.

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The sun was hot against his skin and it seemed to be searing the already dry, cracked skin that covered his shoulders and most of his chest, back, and torso. The perspiration staining his chitin was incomparable to the sweat that beaded on his forehead. The salty liquid was soon running into his eyes, causing them to burn, but Hephaestion had no desire to summon the strength to wipe his eyes. The longer the returning phalanx2 rode the more this same sweat crept into open wounds that remained on his hands, knees, elbows –he felt as if Ares personally raked inscriptions on his body with his heavy hand, but Hephaestion knew that these marks were miniscule in comparison to some of the other foot soldiers. Unforgiving of his limits, he ignored the pain less he become another victim of self pity.

Hephaestion kept his eyes fixed on the horizon and as the sun met the midway mark in the sky the great bend of the trodden jungle path made itself known, threatening to return the soldiers to sovereignty. The general forced the sounds of the sairis3 and the furred creatures in the trees from his ears and concentrated on the sounds that were not there. He looked up at the sun one last time before the trees began to cover the cavalry, shielding them from the fullness of the day. As the sun slipped further and further away from Hephaestion leveled his eyes on the approaching camp.

At the camp darkened eyes looked up from a newly drafted initiative. He was bent over a temporary table, his hand firmly gripping a pen as he signed his name. As this man stood he created a tense, vertical ridge against the otherwise perfect landscape. The hint of a smile that had been on his face fell into a taunt frown as his eyebrows drew together in furrowed contemplation. The pen that had been in the king's hand fell to the ground and he took a few slow steps forward and stopped, staring still at Hephaestion as he dismounted. He found himself unable to look away from the general and he waved the page away and folded his arms over his chest.

Since Chaeronea4 the king had found Hephaestion to be his most effective general, and before this he had been his closest ally within the walls of Pella5. They had at one time been able to read each other's thoughts but distance had impeded the talent. As Hephaestion dismounted the king realized him that he did not need mental talent today, he could see the strain of every muscle as his friend handed his horse to another page. The deep gouge on Hephaestion's back left shoulder blade seemed to stare back at Alexander, piercing through him with an infuriated and condemning scowl.

Alexander was used to the tests and trials of war that marred the body, but something about this gash was different than others. The flaking ruby blood that disappeared beneath the covering of the chiton left behind trails of unspoken suffering. Patches of mud were dried at the bottom of the cut but it was not keeping flies away –and Alexander knew this even though Hephaestion was still several feet away. When he had time the king would have to find the absent doctor that had left the wound untended for so long and deliver him a fitting punishment. But his mind left these thoughts behind when Hephaestion came closer, his jaw tight as he approached.

Alexander did not know what he would have said to Hephaestion had so many others not been nearby watching, but all that he wanted to say was inappropriate at this occasion. Had he reached for Hephaestion's arm and pulled him closer, throwing his arms around him in a quick hug, there would have been no questions. Yet Alexander feared he would be unable to let Hephaestion go, or worse, Hephaestion would shove him away.

When Hephaestion stopped before him Alexander could see the changes in the man he had sent away a month ago and what had returned. The aura of order that normally surrounded Hephaestion had drifted away in warm wind, and the dark lines beneath his eyes added to the vacancy that Alexander now felt. His normally clean shaven face was covered with rugged, animalistic hair, but this covered the scars from Issus and Gaugamela. Worse still, the cerulean of the general's eyes was faded, if not gone entirely. Alexander's lips parted, but before he could form a greeting Hephaestion spoke; there was no emotion present, troubling the king all the more.

"It has been done," Hephaestion informed him, in the way that a general spoke to a king. There was not even a lingering hope of friendship or warmth in his tone. With nothing else to say the general dipped his chin slightly and then stepped past Alexander. The nearest physician had already been summoned and led him away before the king had time to collect his thoughts and beckon either to stop. The only image of the general that Alexander was left with was that of the splinter of wood still embedded in the skin that was fighting to close itself.

There was another man that caught Alexander's attention. Unlike Hephaestion, the second seemed as if he had sat on the outskirts of whatever battle they had stumbled upon. A smug smirk seemed to tug at the corners of Cassander's6 mouth as he faked a bow before his king. Any other would have been sent back to the safety of Babylon had they attempted such a gesture, but Cassander's arrogance had often been of use to Alexander.

"I did not ask him to take this task," Alexander stated, his voice low so that no others could hear him as he spoke. As soon as he spoke these words the harsh connotation rung in even his ears and he hated himself the more for it.

"Have you ever had to ask," Cassander mused, knowing precisely when his words would burn the most.

Even though Alexander wanted Cassander to take this back, he knew it to be true. He had known since the first moment of mentioning his plan for the village outside of Multan that Hephaestion would find a way to involve himself. His thoughts must have betrayed him; for Cassander clapped a hand on the king's bronzed shoulder and then moved away as if to rid himself from the presence of a king he now outwardly disowned. As he did Alexander reached out, a commanding arm stopping Cassander where he had been unable to command Hephaestion.

"What happened?"

Cassander tilted his head in a calculative manner, his eyes dark like those of the nymphs that tempted Dionysus. Cassander sucked in a breath and then slowly shook his head while Alexander leveled his eyes upon him, but it was Cassander's clear disapproval that caught the king off guard. It was odd for this general, the one truly out for the blood of any foe, to be frustrated with a king who had sent him on a task that delivered exactly what he had traveled across the Kush7 to find. As expected, Cassander kept his voice low but his words were just as piercing as they rang in Alexander's ears.

"Have you ever wondered if there is a shred of humanity left within you," the general asked, his words like venom. When Alexander failed to answer he answered for him; "You ordered your truest ally to release your captives in an unstable area, where they have been massacred for a century, all because you needed to see how to access Multan. You have made no point Alexander, but you have torn Hephaestion apart for the last time."

"They were to be released outside of our holdings; I did not tell you to release them inside the boundaries of Multan. How was I to know that they were going to be slaughtered because you failed to do as I told you? You, Cassander, conduct yourself not high above the barbarians that you now stand up for with Hephaestion."

"Morality, conduct," Cassander laughed. "Alexander, you would be unable to define these words even if you asked your precious Aristotle8 for help."

"Return to Pella Cassander, before I send you back as I did Cleitus9!"

"Did you look at those captives," Cassander asked, one brow raised slightly even in his anger. Alexander froze, swallowing before he turned back to face the cunning politician.

"Did you walk through them and determine for yourself who was to live and who would be more valuable to you should they die? You sent amongst them warriors, true, but you also sent children –boys three years younger than when we set foot in Thebes."

"They stood against…"

"Age means nothing to me, enemies in training can be any age and at your orders I would kill a hundred children to prevent a future revolt. But to Hephaestion, the only one amongst us that had any dignity left, they were still children. He is not like us Alexander; he has never been like us. When we were training for war as children in Pella he was in Athens10 learning how to maintain peace –he has never been like us. I told you eight years ago to leave him in Pella."

"Do not question me," Alexander shouted.

"This entire campaign has been your need to prove that your drunken father was wrong when he banished you, that your Snake-Queen11 mother does not control you, and the further you go the further away from the rest of the world we find ourselves."

Cassander crossed the distance that Alexander had put between them. There were no longer onlookers, apart from other members of the Companion Cavalry that would hear of this outburst regardless of if they watched it unfold. Cassander was unafraid of Alexander from childhood, and it would be unwise to start fearing him in the Kush.

"There was a time," he said quietly, "when Hephaestion meant more to you than this new world. Did you even consider what it was like for Hephaestion all of these years? What of this, slaughtering young men? Alexander, who do you think looked after them on the way, caring for them like a father, assuring the youngest that it would be alright?"

Cassander shook his head, again clapping Alexander on the shoulder before he took his leave. As he slipped away he added, "People change, my king, and not always for the better."

Alexander had no desire to watch Cassander depart; his only remaining desire was to assure himself that Hephaestion's wound was being tended to. No one questioned him as he approached the physician's tent. Yet as he entered time seemed to still and the commotion within the tent came to a stop. The only hands that remained busy were those of Lorikus12, who was busily wiping hunks of dead skin away from Hephaestion's exposed shoulder blade. Alexander lifted a hand to his chin, watching as the physician pulled on the wooden shaft that was still sunken into the flesh. He asked a nearby page for a small blade and the boy swiftly found the tool and handed it to an outstretched hand.

"The skin has tried to heal around it," the physician explained, knowing well enough that the king was wondering from where he stood. "I must cut through its grip in order to remove the bolt. Hephaestion," he said, now speaking to his patient, "would you like more wine?"

"Just remove it," the general answered. He remained still, unmoving as he lay on his chest, and the distance in his voice could not go unnoted. Lorikus lifted another tool and began to pull upon the bolt. Alexander turned away while Hephaestion closed his eyes. The king turned only when the sound of tearing flesh stopped, and the general had not moved. The only other nervous party within the tent was the page who now held the remainder of the bolt that had been pulled from Hephaestion's shoulder.

"It is to be kept bandaged," the doctor announced, washing his hands in a small basin. "Keep it from the water or infection will grow. Wash it only with boiled water, once a day, but dry it before it is rewrapped."

"Thank you," Alexander said, waiting for the doctor to excuse himself. Lorikus had only this one patient, but he still considered staying should more enter. But he knew better than to cross the king and so he dried his hands and motioned for his page to follow. Silence enveloped the tent as these two left, neither the king nor the general ready to speak to the other.

"Say what you have to say," Hephaestion murmured.

Alexander could not see his face, could not tell if there was hidden pain beneath his cerulean eyes, and this made him frown from where he stood. He came around the edge of the cot and sat on the stool Lorikus had abandoned at his departure. Without thinking he reached for a piece of gauze and dipped it in pre-boiled water. Careful not to offend him, Alexander wiped the gauze over the wound. Hephaestion tensed underneath the pressure of his hand but did his best not to move away. The king washed the wound and then took a yard of the thin Alexandrian gauze and began to wrap the general's shoulder, lifting his arm slowly and then slipping it underneath his chest. Hephaestion lifted himself slightly, obliging the king, but when he lay back down he looked away from him. Hephaestion let out a breath so full of tension Alexander felt it in his bones.

"What makes you think I have something to say?"

"I know you."

"I am glad that you are back," Alexander told him. He patched the gauze together and admired his work for a few moments. It was not as taut as Lorikus' work would have been but the bandage would stay on for the rest of the day.

"I was not gone long."

"Both cavalries will be marching within a week. Multan has gone on too long; their remaining men are weakened, tired. Our forces are beginning to grow wary. They fear that I've lost the will to go on."

A moment later Alexander added, "I'll lead the Companions on horseback but when we split around the fortress Nearchus13 will take the Left Cavalry."

"What," Hephaestion asked, sitting up. He was on his feet before Alexander could stop him, pulling a new chiton on. He barely winced as he lifted his arm. The king knew he did this for pride above his desire to keep up the façade of being in perfect health.

"You're not well enough to ride. Nearchus can handle Multan, and the men will not think less of you for staying here. Ptolemy and Cassander have the Right Cavalry, and if needed they know how to divide the phalanxes twice again."

"And if I'm never better," Hephaestion asked. It was not in his nature to be stubborn, but when he wanted to be he surpassed even Alexander. When the general finished redressing he left the tent, the king trailing behind him for a moment before he picked up his own stride. They entered Hephaestion's tent side by side, Hephaestion panting from exertion while Alexander considered calling for Lorikus.

"You are not riding with us."

"Fine," Hephaestion said sitting down on a pile of furs. He lay back, pulling one of the furs over himself. Alexander wished he could join him as he'd done in the past. As he prepared to leave Hephaestion's seething words rang in his ears.

"I'll walk."

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Hephaestion took his place in the corner, eyes wandering between the other generals present as he crossed his arms over his chest, muscles straining, shoulder throbbing despite a new bandage and watered-wine14. Alexander watched his predictable movements, thinking to himself that Hephaestion had not changed as much as Cassander had advised him. From childhood Hephaestion had been the one to protect him, always watching out for him no matter how tedious it became. There had to be a part of Hephaestion that still valued their friendship, because of all the generals he was the only one to watch the pages pour wine, making sure they took a sip before leaving the cup behind for the king. It made Alexander grin, though he did not do this externally, before raising a hand to silence the others.

"Multan is the only thing standing between us and the edge of the world. From what has been reported, we can surround their forces if we meet them here," the king said, placing a representation of a small army on the table. There were a few trees that had been carved by one of his many engineers and the king moved them into a forest-like position.

"Cassander, you and Ptolemy will control the right. You will take the phalanx this way, cutting the rear fleet from Multan from retreat. I will take the center, and you will join me after you have positioned the phalanx. Craterus will stay with the right phalanx on your departure. The left," he paused, moving another phalanx-block, "will be Hephaestion's. Hephaestion will lead, Nearchus, you will stay behind when he rejoins me. We outnumber their forces, but they will know how to maneuver through this area."

"Half an hour and they'll be nothing," Nearchus boasted.

"Don't underestimate them," a voice from behind the king said. It seemed still, perfectly silent, as Hephaestion took a step forward. Even as he did, Alexander could not help but note he did not look at him in the slightest. "They don't need to go through the jungle, they will go over it."

"Elephants15," Cassander agreed from where he lounged. "They have tipped arrows that will break through most protection as well."

"We can beat them," Ptolemy interjected.

There were a few more outbursts of enthusiasm before the generals left the tent, mounting their horses and moving to their designated ranks. Alexander did not have a chance to reach out for Hephaestion as he had hoped, thinking perhaps he had changed his mind and would stay at the camp, listening to his orders just once.

It had grown simpler to initiate attacks on barbarian villages, and this was no different as Alexander gave the order to move forward. There was no longer much feeling to cutting down men on the ground from where he sat on Bucephalus16. In fact, nothing was seemingly out of place in the battle, yet Alexander found himself pulling his horse to a stop as the sound of elephants echoed through the forests. Bucephalus heard the noise too, and as the Multan king crushed through the twisting trees he reared back. Exposed to the barbarian king, Alexander raised his sword, and accepted the arrow that pierced through his chest.

For Alexander, the series of events that followed were not comprehendible. He hit the blood-soaked ground, dirt falling into his mouth, but he stared up the shifting world above. The sounds of death were absent. The smell of fear and eternal slumber did not exist. There was only a slight stabbing pain at his side as he drew in a breath, and then, he saw Hephaestion. Until this point, it had seemed more of a dream, his body floating through the world, completing memorized patterns of movements, of killing. Now it was real, and he wanted to scream to Hephaestion, wanted to warn him.

He wanted to apologize. He would tell him he was sorry, that he had never meant to send him to execute the captives. They were boys, ten to fifteen, who should have been spared; compared to his actions they were not barbarians at all. Instead of forming the words, he watched as Hephaestion pulled his horse to the side, shielding Alexander from another arrow. The shaft, impeded, collided with Hephaestion's horse, causing it to jolt and throw both itself and rider to the ground.

_I'll be with you always__17__,_ Alexander thought, hoping that Hephaestion could hear him, if he too were close to death. Instead, Hephaestion rolled onto his side, sword in hand, and lunged at a nearby soldier. He knocked him to the ground, but not before a blade sunk deep into his thigh, releasing a cry of anguish. Still dazed, Hephaestion slid to the ground in a heap, leg bleeding profusely.

In the distance a horn blew, but Alexander could not decipher if it was from their ranks or from Multan ranks. His only concentration was upon Hephaestion, who somewhere beside him, for he could not see him, was still wrestling with an opponent. He was unsure of how long this went on, but then he saw familiar faces leaning over him, felt their hands lifting him onto a shield. Once lifted, his head bobbed to the side, and he could see his beloved friend, loyal general, lying on the ground.

For the first time in what seemed like years, Hephaestion's cerulean eyes locked with his, and the pain subsided.

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Author Notes: This is, again, just a shorter version of what will soon be posted. There will be greater detail, depth, this class assignment only gave me 10 pages to work with. Also, the in-text notes that may/may not appear below are for the class I was in. I'm sure most people here know all of this. All of my readers can still reach me at and you can also find me on Facebook under Michelle Boyer (I'm putting my name because there is a Wiki floating around with my penname and real name). Please read, review, and enjoy!

1 Refers to the wound Alexander the Great received at the siege of Multan (325 BC) that nearly killed.

2 Alexander's Companion phalanx consisted of 100 men, led by Hephaestion Amyntor.

3 In Alexandrian armies, a singer/poet who carried a lyre and entertained foot soldiers on marches.

4 At the age of sixteen Alexander led a small band into Chaeronea (Thebes) under his father's (Philip) orders. Many of the soldiers with Alexander were his childhood friends (including Hephaestion, Cassander, and Ptolemy) and would later become members of the Companion Cavalry.

5 Former capital of Macedonia at which one of the Macedonian Palaces was located –Alexander grew up here.

6 Many records of Cassander's involvement in the Persian Campaigns have been lost; Plutarch does not include Cassander at Issus or Gaugamela, but places Cassander at later campaigns –including Multan.

7 Hindu Kush. Collectively refers to the campaigns fought past Persia (including Multan).

8 Alexander's tutor from Pella.

9 A general Alexander murdered at a public event for questioning his rational and campaign strategies.

10 Amyntor, Hephaestion's father, was sent to Athens by Philip and Hephaestion was educated here until returning to Pella around the age of 10.

11 Olympias. She claimed she fathered Alexander with Zeus, who came to her in the form of a snake.

12 One of the physicians that accompanied Alexander on his campaigns. Alt. spelling: Lorykus, Lorekus.

13 Member of the Companion Cavalry. Was second in command, underneath Hephaestion, of the Left Cavalry.

14 Used as casual drinking during the day, or pain relievers, water was mixed with wine to lessen the effects of the pure wine that was reserved for feasts or other highly important occasions –also made rations last longer.

15 Unlike in Stone's theatrical version, Alexander had encountered and used elephants before reaching Multan.

16 Alexander's most treasured horse; the city Bucephala is named after this stallion.

17 A line used in Stone's movie that has become immortalized with Alexander fiction authors; especially those on .

Boyer | 13


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